Peace Out. New blog. Where dis?

It has been increasingly difficult to post to this blog over the past few years.

I think it is because it covers a chapter of my life that I can no longer associate with. I'm no longer that sad young boy trying to understand why depression fucked his life and took away all the light. I haven't found my way through the path of achieving nirvana, nor have I achieved the ultimate enlightenment; but at the same time I am not sick and this blog is a relic from that journey; and after a lot of thought I have decided not to use it anymore.

I was also bigoted, with misogynistic undertones and wrote material that sometimes makes me cringe when I go through them all these years later.

I felt the need to go back and edit some of the material, or out-rightly remove them because we are advancing into an age where social media is filled with "social warriors" armed with the pitch-forks of vitriol and misplaced social championing, and some of the shit I wrote in the past may not fit in with what is considered "right" or "moral". People have the habit of digging up things you said or wrote online in the past with the intent of maligning your character.

Ultimately I chose to retain all the articles unedited, in their original form. I am aware of the personal attacks that may come from any "controversial" material, because at the end of the day I didn't start this blog with the intent to be right, believing that my knowledge was superior and immutable.

It was about me. It was not about attacking anyone, nor was it about hurting or victimizing anyone. It was a journey about Ben trying to understand his thoughts, his life and what everything meant and who he was in all of the chaos that is self-awareness cloaked and suffocated by depression, and sharing his thoughts in case a thought worth adopting was sent back.

You can never grow when your journey involves forgetting from whence you came. The value of life isn't understood looking forward but by looking back at the path taken.

It's time to discover myself anew or continue to.

I have also decided to publish the half done thoughts that will forever remain unfinished after the mind behind them died, or was erased...or whatever.

If you still want to read stuff I write, or spy on me or whatever, I'm now on tumblr.

Edited on 28th January 2019 to remove link to new blog. I shouldn't make things easy for people

Approaching Normal

Nowadays it is like everyone either has a baby, is about to or is having another one...and in some cases more. I'm the last of my kind in my generation and as my next birth anniversary approaches, some questions will be incessant "unakuja na rafiki lini?"

Then I'll go on a rant about how I don't conform to the same societal norms where my life has to be marked by the same distinct stages as other people's: school, graduate, job, marriage, kids, retirement, death(?)....

I don't have to propagate progeny - as people who know bigger words than me would say. Even Jesus didn't have kids. Imagine going up against that in a game of water polo? You're here equalizing the water balance between your lungs and the swimming pool while this other person runs for the ball...

Besides, I'm saving the world from snotty nosed, entitled little bastards wielding unbearable sarcasm and stupid puns. Do you know how annoying that is? Some kid talking back, but to make it worse, showing tell-tale signs that it is smarter than you will ever be, so you start stuttering looking for something to say and finally come up with "ako wapi mama yako?"

So, really, I am excited I have lived this long despite all the setbacks and curve balls life threw my way 7 years ago. But if someone asks me why I don't have a child or when I'm planning to, I'll just refer them to my loin area and give the generic "ask deez nuts!"

In all honesty

Recently realized that the biggest reason I stopped writing was because I lost all the honesty I used to be able to express. Most of the articles I write, I end up rewriting, truncating and basically wiping away all evidence of the thought stream that evoked it.

I guess there comes a time in your life when you have to re-evaluate who you are and who you associate with. It was also a realization that everything I write or say will be used against me when it's convenient, which is, to say the least, scary.

Over the past few months I have been going through the entries/posts that I'd written over the last 10 years which cover the period before I was depressed to immediately after it was 'cured'. I used to be poetic and expressive with my words, both verbal and written; back then I still had the naivety and belief in the goodness of people.

As reality sank in I started getting angry and the entries alternated between sadness, anger and a need to understand what was happening to me. At first the depression crept in small waves that were often confused with bipolar disorder and about a year into it, it was more cloudy than sunny...clinical depression.

I have tried about a thousand different ways to write about life after depression but kept getting stuck halfway with all it entries. It drove me crazy having to abandon each article until I asked myself, what was I trying to say? What point were they intended to send across? That I'm no longer classified as bipolar or how my life has become all rosy and everything is making sense?

Yes I am glad I don't have to take the pills ever again because a) there is(was) no physiological or psychological need to after the misdiagnosis was sorted out and depression treated correctly, and b) they used to slow down and fuzzy up my thoughts and I was more a biologically functioning vegetable than a human capable of a spectrum of emotions and thoughts.

The vacuum remaining after the disease left was filled with trust issues and paranoia about everything especially people's intentions. No, it's not exactly trust issues, it is questioning of peoples intentions at every corner, why did they ask that question? Why was it phrased that way?

Was I compensating for self esteem that was so fragile and suppressed during the depressive period that when someone looked your way then you were only too glad to indulge and entertain their bullshit, especially with relationships; and ended up turning the other cheek or blind eye(whichever is the more appropriate expression) more rather than focus on getting what was right and deserved?

I am potentially the worst poster child for people who have gotten over depression. I am happy, but not as happy as I could be if I allowed myself. I have friends but not as friendly as I should be towards them. I have loves but I'm not as expressive or communicative as I should be. I was happier in the first year because ignorance is bliss and what better to enforce that than a broken memory (although that fixed itself completely later).

Most importantly I was am happy my world wasn't isn't obfuscated anymore, not the nonexistence of crisis, but the confidence that I can walk through a crisis without breaking pace, shrinking from it, or losing the ability to think through it.

A Tale of Two Titties

A few weeks ago I found myself at a swimming pool. It was another lazy afternoon at a local pool. Nothing special or profound about it. Nothing special about most of the people in the pool either. Just the normal people. Some fat, some skinny, some barely able to dunk their heads into the water without gasping like they're drowning.

Among this collection of humanity was this girl. She looked like she was in her mid or early twenties; very pretty, with a slightly stubby nose which only made her prettier. It was obvious she was a beginner from the way she clung to the edge of the pool and rarely left the shallow end unless supported by someone.

At first she kept everything below her neck underwater, but with time as she got more comfortable with the surrounding she started revealing more of herself. All she had on apart from a pair of white trunks was this thin t-shirt that had turned completely transparent after getting wet especially where it clung to her body. Which was just about all over. For all intents and purposes, she was topless. Her breasts were out there, open to all stares. If she was self conscious about it, then she hid it really well.

On Instagram there is this hashtag that has been floating around for a while now called #freethenipple and the story behind it is on the treatment of women's nipples like they're obscene body parts that shouldn't be exposed in public, while men's nipples are viewed as normal and no censorship is ever applied to them anywhere online or in public.

There is a point to it. If you'd ever seen a woman breastfeeding in public, it looks normal and no-one ever comments about. Is the nipple suddenly not erotic because there is a baby in the picture drinking from it? Take away the baby and they suddenly become obscene again and people start grumbling. Human psychology and culture are funny sometimes.

The girl in the pool was frolicking with her friends, and getting taught how to swim. There was some staring initially but after a few minutes it was like nobody cared or noticed anymore. She went about her business, comfortable in her own skin.

I admit that at first I was worried especially after all the incidents of women getting stripped in various parts of the country under the claim that they were immoral and indecent. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe I was expecting someone from management would come over and tell her to dress up or wear a proper swimming costume like they do at the Kasarani public pool where they don't allow bikinis or any costume that exposes a woman's stomach. For guys pretty much anything goes as long as you don't swim naked.

Whenever you ask around why there is a such a rule, especially regarding exposure of the stomach, you get the stock answer that it is intended to protect children from immorality. African culture has changed over time. We claim that it is against our culture for women to appear topless, but when you dig around the archives you will find that in most tribes women always walked around topless just like the men. Does this mean that rather than becoming more liberal we have actually become more restrictive towards what women can do, contrary to the progressiveness we claim to have achieved over time?

I remember as a child when we went upcountry I used to love swimming in the river. At the swimming points it was not unusual to find women swimming stark naked. It didn't stimulate me and that didn't turn me into a sexually obsessed little perv(high school did that).

Do we even bother to find out why such a restrictive modern culture evolved? Or do we just accept it as it is even though evidence shows there is no much difference between male and female nipples. If the reason we dislike female nipples so much is because of their role in foreplay, and during intercourse, well, the male nipple should be banned from the public also. Speaking from personal experience.

I admit, breasts are fascinating and are a huge turn on in the bedroom or wherever a woman lets you play with them. But is this enough reason for us cut down on a woman's freedom of where she can let them loose? Of course it wouldn't be okay to expose them in many situations like in the workplace. But that is a matter of the same ethics that would also forbid a man from being topless in the workplace.

There have been arguments that breasts are distracting to men. Is it really a woman's fault when a man can't contain his idealization? Wouldn't it still happen whether a woman is topless or covered from head to foot? I'm not claiming to be a saint and that I have not ogled women in the past till they were uncomfortable. When it was pointed out, I was able to control it and actually stop. I actually try to make sure even romantic involvements are more about the companionship and less about sex. And it's working out. Sorta. But that is a different post altogether.

So is it that men aren't aware they do it? Is that what self consciously drives us into oppressing women's bodies because we can't control our own sexual urges, or rather assume we can't control them? Are all these rules we have a way of projecting our own weaknesses and denial onto women?

 Case and point, the girl in the pool. No one seemed to be offended by her nudity. No one seemed to care. Did people who would have otherwise cared not care because everyone else seemed not to care? Or was it a coincidence that in such a random assembly of people all of them had been conditioned to look at is as normal. Or is the discrimination of women some sort of mob psychology where a critical mass of bigots must first be attained and the oppression begins?

God, are you there?

The biggest problem with writing is that you have to keep at it constantly otherwise you lose your flare and skills. It's a muscle that needs to be constantly flexed in order to stay in working order. Haven't been doing that lately, mostly because I never had any inspiration. Until recently.

But that is not the point here.

When I was still depressed, especially the first years I used to oscillate between believing in God and not believing in his existence. Mostly because I was going through so much shit in my head and in my life that it was hard to believe that He would allow someone like me, who never had any ill intent against anyone or anything, to go through so much hell that I didn't have the will to fight it anymore.

For endless months I wished to either die or for it to stop and for months I didn't get either. It was bad, I was in  bad place and hardly saw any happiness and when it came it was so fleeting it felt like I was being mocked. Through it all I still constantly prayed it would end. But it only seemed to get worse. The little one was the one who tipped me over the edge and I ache for her every single day. But I got closure and acceptance, so that is no longer an issue.

My relationship with God was turbulent, because I didn't know whether to believe in him or to abandon thoughts of a deity and accept that life is what it is and the best we can do is just follow our instincts; and accept there is no meaning behind it at the end of it all.

I used to have moments of clarity, but they were very very rare. I just wasn't happy.

Last year was the year it all changed. After intense treatment and therapy, the light came back into my life. My opinion suddenly changed (nope, it was not gradual at all). I was suddenly happy again. Especially the months I had no memory. There was no cloud hanging over my head, and the whole world was suddenly laid out in front of me. Yes it is sad I lost so many years from my life, but I was ok.

Wasn't this what I was praying for all those years I was depressed? For it to go away and for my mind to feel like it was mine again. To be mine again. For me to be able to trust in my decisions wholly. Wasn't this everything I had wanted then? Was it because of God? Where does God stop and I continue?

As evidenced by articles written since February 2014, it hasn't been exactly smooth since it's a journey of finding my identity sans depression. But it's not as bad as it seems. I know who I am. It's the dreams I had given up that I have to catch up to again. I have rediscovered friendship more meaningful than they ever were before. It's realizing that for the most part, I had family and friends right there beside me.

A few days ago I was talking to a close friend about God. I hardly believe in most religions, and as a result I never go to church unless it's a wedding or as some form of moral support for someone. But I do pray. I pray a lot nowadays. 

It's not that I expect him to solve all my problems. I don't expect him to suddenly make someone I like to fall in love with me, like some sort of mind controlling genie. When I pray for something like love, I'm just hoping that I find someone to look at me and see me for who I am and love it and be ok with my flaws. I pray that I will be able to do the same. I don't want God's role to be the magic potion. I want it to be as the hand that brought us into the same place where we became aware of each other. The rest being up to us.

I have always been aware that I am emotionally unavailable to most people especially in the way that would lead to a relationship, and I always prayed that when I found myself available and vulnerable to someone, they would feel the same. All I know is I would give it my all.

My point is I stopped looking at God like a nosy, glaring parent, always disapproving everything I do. After all, he made us and is aware of all our weaknesses and when I look back at my life, I can see his influence all over. Things I can't logically explain.  And things even though explainable, they don't follow logic. Make sense? 

I see God's influence in decisions I made in the past that are actually making sense now. Mainly because when I made them all I had was the intention to do something right even though I didn't know how they would ultimately help me. When I put the interests of others over mine. It is in learning that I can actually gain without being selfish. Sort of like the logic in using up resources is to make our lives better. We don't know anything about future generations or if they will remember or value us, but we have the need to use it responsible so that at least they have something too, like us.

I'm not a saint. I'm not as good as the last paragraph may have hinted. I have moments of absolute selfishness sometimes. I am far from being an example of Godly. But Lord knows I try to be the best I can be especially when it comes to other human beings. 

I always try to make sure I do good things even if I don't get it in return, and I always try not to be be bitter when it's not returned in kind. I want to be happy without having to exploit the emotions of others. I want never to care about what other people think of me, while at the same time showing the ones that care about me that it's not for nothing and that they are safe with me.

Maybe I am picky when it comes to who I associate with, but it's because it is a no holds barred experience in opening up that is both intense and fulfilling. Friends and lovers alike.

Believing in God works for me. It's comforting knowing that whatever love I have inside has a higher meaning. It is comforting thinking that we're all an extension of God, and while things may be dark, we're never really alone. 

We may not know the way, but looking back it all makes sense. It really does. Everything is for a reason, even though we may not know what in the present.

Life in a rut

Coming out of depression felt like waking up from a long sleep.

You feel groggy, and have vague recollections of the last dreams you had and trying to differentiate which memories are real and which memories are echoes from the dreams.

I knew I would have a crisis of identity down the line after getting 'cured' of depression. I knew I would reach a point of ultimate dissatisfaction about where my life is. I knew the restlessness would come back. I knew it would hit me hard.

Have you ever reached a point where you look back at your life and know you aren't happy with it? Sure it would be easy to argue about it not being within your control. I can tell tell myself over and over that there was nothing I could do to change my life while I was depressed. That I didn't have the capacity for making expensive or risky decisions like I am able to now, and was able to before. It is so easy to just resign to those facts and just go with it... But I know better.

The thing that scares me the most currently is, ironically enough, the fact that I'm not scared at all.  It's like my subconscious has already made a decision I'm not yet aware of. I am worried that I am about to do something stupid. But something stupid and something risky are the only options I have left. When your are backed into a corner you can either give up...or turn and face whatever is chasing you.

I have dreams and goals. I want to have kids someday. Probably sooner. I want to do something I love, I want more control, and I want to contribute to humanity and the world more actively and directly.  Truth be told, I don't see how I can do that in my current state. I don't want to sit in one chair long enough for it to adjust to the shape of my body.

Have you ever felt like your life is in a rut? Have you ever woken up in a strange bed you couldn't recognize? Everyone insists it's your bed, that you've lain in it for over 4 years, but the mattress is too lumpy, the sheets too mouldy, and the bed too creaky?

You get out of the bed and look around. The walls are the wrong colour...not even close to the ideal colour you'd have wanted. The floors are tiled, but the tiles don't match and where the carpet lies, it's too thin. You go out and discover all you have is the bedroom.

When you seek answers about why you live there, everyone tells you you just have for as long as you can remember. Their memories only go as far back as you slept. So for them it's normal. You remember going to sleep in a bigger bed. You remember it being more comfortable. You remember more rooms.

Nobody seems to understand why you complain about your bed. After all they are comfortable in theirs, or rather they have accepted those are the beds they shall have for ever and ever.
But when you think about eternity... It's not worth wasting eternity in a bed you hate.

I'd rather sleep in the cold seeking out a better one than sleep in some stupid bed I can barely remember slipping into the first time.

Opening up

I love writing, and I love knowing people can see my posts and understand the stuff I go through that I can only express through writing.

This blog was one of my outlets over the five years that I had clinical depression, when I was suffering and unashamed about who saw it. An incident a few months back made me rethink the idea of having a blog where my identity is known.

It wasn't anything serious or bad, but one of my co workers got one of those notifications that Google in their infinite wisdom feel they have to ping people you know with, informing them that there is a post you put up that they may have missed. In her wisdom, my co worker read it aloud and everyone within earshot heard it and those stupid enough to comment, did.

It was a cringe-worthy incident for me, and I felt violated on so many levels. I was angry, I was confused, I was unable to lash out verbally because it stung and I was still shocked.

I write so that I don't have to talk about it. It is my belief that when you read something I've written, the unspoken agreement is that we then don't have to discuss it EVER, unless I bring it up in conversation. Writing allows me to communicate emotions I'm still unable to express verbally.

I still needed this blog because even though I am not depressed anymore, I still have a long way to go to be sure that it never happens again. I still have to deal with the five years I lost; and that in my mind I feel that I'm 5 years behind where I wanted my life to be, which amounts to being a failure, as far as I'm concerned. It is a weird feeling going from being years ahead of everybody, to waking up and finding that you're behind.

I am still mad that 6 years ago I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life and had begun on that path, then a disease came and spun me off course; and when I stopped spinning, the route had changed and I can't seem to be able to find it anymore, or at the speed I need to catch up to where I wanna be.

I am sad that I feel that I have to stop using this blog, because I know there are people my experiences in dealing with depression could have helped. I just have to find another way to get to them.

I am sad that, in failing to recognize certain boundaries, my friends have gone on paths that have alienated me from them, because some of the topics they choose to use against me - in jest or whatever 'humorous' context -  touch on insecurities I have been trying to deal with for a long time, and it it not in my nature to tell people they have gone too far, because I just stop caring.

So, I feel more alone than I ever have in a long time because I feel like I don't have anyone to turn to. And my last refuge, which was my blog, has become a weapon that can be used against me. As I seek new ways of venting, please bear with me.

I shall continue to post here from time to time (I hope). But I'm feeling more inclined to open an anonymous blog. I'm not sure how I'll publicize it because of the whole maintaining anonymity thing. But I want a blog people will read, and if they choose to pass judgement, at least I'll be out of range.

Homosexuality and being human

The purpose of having laws is to protect the people from others who may take advantage or abuse their rights as human beings. The law is not supposed to tell you how to live, and as long as your lifestyle does not take something from someone else, there is no need for a rule to dictate how you should live.

That said, the law is supposed to be adaptive so that as we evolve we repeal laws that weren't well thought out. It is ok to question the law if it is time barred and/or fails to protect us by being too restrictive because at the time it was enacted standards were different. Remember, slavery was legal in some countries once.

Once you learn a bit of theology, you realize most of the Bible aint all that, because we abuse it and interpret it to justify morals, a lot like the horoscope and how most people read it and say "omg, that is so me". The Bible is subject to the same abuse, this keeping in mind that many of the books in there were written over 3000 years ago!

Look at it this way, the morals and lifestyles that were the norm the 60s are outdated to us. The 60s are a mere 50 years back, yet we still cling to something written thousands of years ago, wherein we don't have the context that would help us align ourselves with the teachings and how they apply to us. Do you honestly believe that Adam and Eve existed 5000 years ago? Anyway it's not my work to debunk the Old Testament.

But lets go to the book that most people use to dispute homosexuality, Genesis; and the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah. Historically there is no evidence they ever existed. And when you continue to read the book, Lot's wife gets turned into a pillar of salt for looking back. What fair god is that that punishes you for looking back after hearing an explosion, but is quite ok when the same guy goes ahead and has sex with his daughters? What about that? You may argue that he was drunk, but as we all know "I was drunk" is not a really good excuse to justify incest. Or our moral compass says it's ok to have sex with your children, but it's wrong to have consensual sex with someone of the same gender?

Thank God the law isn't based on the bible because I love bacon.

Anyway, I used to be homophobic, but then I asked myself, why did I hate them? I'm not homosexual. Standing next to a homosexual never made me any less of a human being. I didn't start suffocating because they were inhaling the same air I was. I didn't become a homosexual because I was in the same space as them. I didn't feel like they were trying to have sex with me or 'convert' me. My money was still intact afterwards, and not once did I feel threatened.

So for all intents and purposes they didn't in fact affect me anymore than standing with another heterosexual would have. Which would allow me me to conclude homosexual doesn't ooze out and isn't airborne. I actually learned that they were homosexual way later upon hearing who they were dating, and even then, nothing extraordinary happened. So why was I so scared of them to the point of hating them? Simple, I didn't know what homosexuality was. But you see, I don't need to understand why someone is homosexual any more than I need to understand why I am heterosexual. Unless for statistical or scientific purposes. You just need to accept that that is who they are sexually, and as long as you aren't the one having sex with them, it's none of your business and should never come up as a factor when looking at them as people.

Which takes us back to the law. The law makes it illegal to be a homosexual yet a homosexual is just another human being just looking to find happiness and purpose in life. So why is it illegal? We can't all be monochrome templates of each other, we don't have the same preferences and we'll never be the same. We value our uniqueness so much then when we come across something we don't understand we let unjustified fears cloud our minds and allow it to form into hatred. It's not right.

You can't turn into a homosexual by allowing homosexuals to explore their sexuality. Your kids won't turn into homosexuals because homosexuality is not illegal. But a larger group of people will be happier. Isn't that the point of life anyway? To be happy and not have to hide that you're happy? If someones happiness is with someone of the same gender why deny them? It's not like we're legalizing having sex in the street in open daylight. That would be immoral and messed up regardless of sexuality. Sex happens between consenting adults in the privacy of enclosed spaces.

So I'll ask, "Pilipili usioila yakuwasha nini?"

There is a probability someone you know is gay but can't find happiness or explore that part of themselves because they know your stand and can't understand the origin of your hatred. Don't be that person. Some things you can't choose any more than you can choose your skin colour, or parents. But you can choose to be tolerant and understanding. That is what makes you human. That is what makes us all human, to be able to acknowledge our differences and be ok with that.

A shitty existence

Has anyone ever noticed that the people with the most mental health issues are usually the ones who are extremely smart? Think Einstein, John Nash and the countless others out there. I consider myself smart, but most likely not at the level of the geniuses I've mentioned.

What would make a person, that to an outsider, has it all; intelligence and a good lifestyle. Why are they more likely to flip out than the rest of the populace?

Me thinks that at some level, their subconscious is tuned in to the world more keenly, and concludes that it is screwed up big time. Look around everywhere. It's mostly the selfish assholes that become wealthy and they become wealthy because that inbuilt moral compass that would direct their attention to the suffering of others is turned off.

That part of being human that tells you that it's not fair to live in excess while others die of hunger, seems to be turned off. Where your dogs are better fed than more that 60% of the world's population. Where is the fairness, and why do people so blatantly exploit each other?

Look at the earth, it's the only planet that for hundreds of light years around  that can sustain life. What are we doing? Using up it's resources like there will be no future generations that will need these  resources in order to survive. We know we're destroying it but can't give even the slightest hint

The same thing that allowed mankind to become the dominant being on earth is the same one that'll lead to his destruction. God really has a funny sense of humour. Give them brains, build in a self destruct mechanism.

Maybe that's why we've never encountered any other form of intelligent life. Maybe all life has a self destruct sequence built in their genes that upon reaching a certain stage of evolution, activates and they destroy themselves. It's probably a vicious cycle that has manifested itself for eons meaning that no form of life will ever go beyond interstellar travel within their local solar system.

I know it eats at me constantly. Why are we like this. Why do I sometimes show that type of aggressive competitiveness? Why am I also conditioned to want a life that will ultimately lead to exploiting others? As an environmentalist I understand that, used well, the resources are more than enough for all of us and reverse whatever damage has been done so far. But where does the incessant need to feel better than others come from? That need that justifies us actively pulling the rugs from under each other in the hopes that the pedestals we put ourselves on will be a couple inches higher than the ones the others have placed themselves on.

I don't understand. Life is constantly throwing shit at us. We're knee deep in shit and more shit is coming our way but the person beside you will take a handful of shit and try to convince you how less smelly their shit is than yours. And you know, you are in the same friggin' river of shit. You try explain that there is no difference, but get told off, to go mind your own shit. Rather than clean up collectively and get rid of the shit once and for all, we're busy trying to convince others how much better our shit is. It's tragic story.

We compete at unnecessary and redundant levels. My God is better than your God, yet neither of us has ever encountered our Gods. I am happier than you; yet the things that (supposedly) make one happy are very relative and thus can't be comparatively quantified. You like gaming, I like traveling and swimming. You live for social interactions, I live for commuting with nature. We're so different, but we don't achieve high levels of happiness the same way.

Point is, the world is damaged. We're damaged. We damage each other in the process of trying to prove to the others that they're more damaged than us. Ultimately, we're all going to finish each other of.

What is the pride in being the last person standing in a race where everyone was intended to win?

The stupid ones cometh

It was a cold Monday in March when I stirred from deep sleep. Today was the day. I was grumpy because I hadn't seen a 5 am in years. At least not as the start to a day.
Struggling to see between crusts of dried eye goo, I picked my wallet; confirmed my ID and voter's card were intact, as well as the observer's badge that would save me the pain of queuing for hours. After hastily washing and wiping away the goo, I was off.

By 6 am I had this stain on my small finger that would last another couple weeks...or months. But it was alright, I knew my favourite would have a tough time winning, but at least I voted with my conscience, right? That is all that matters, right?

Flash forward two years later. The regret in people's voices when reading the newspaper, or talking politics is obvious...for most at least. It would be easy to give a sarcastic, "see the people you voted in" statement, but the truth of the matter is that choices made by the majority affect all of us, both the conscientious and the gullible.

That is when you realize, democracy isn't as glamorous as they made it sound in school. Makes you think... see, if it was a despot, you couldn't blame yourselves for the bad governance because in that case you didn't have a choice. Because dictators do bad shit whenever they want.

There is this amount of pain you feel when you see the extreme levels in the proliferation of corruption, and callousness in the use of tax money for selfish purposes, by the supposed revolutionary leaders. Then there are the images in the media of people who have lost loved ones as a direct result of corruption; the pain in their eyes when the govt says it'll compensate them, as if that should give them some sort of comfort, especially knowing the circumstance behind the deaths.

The pain is almost unbearable when you remember that we did this to ourselves. We brought this onto ourselves because when viewed through the tribal monochrome, we only had two choices in that election; it was their people, or our people. Since when has that helped anyone outside very specific family circles?

We had the lessons of history on our side... FIFTY FUCKING YEARS!! We knew(and still know) the political affiliations, since it they have been within the same freakin circles since independence! Yet, we still voted along tribal lines! Divided along lines that wouldn't make a difference whichever choice we made as long as we stuck within the two choices passed off as the only way for change.

Since when has voting for a person of your tribe helped you directly or indirectly? You still have the same struggle passed down the generations from your parents and them from theirs and so on. The only constant is the stupidity in voting.

I thank God for devolution, because it shows where poor decision making starts. Our 'tribesmen' are buying speedboats for 'us'; in a region without navigable water-bodies save for dams. Where they oppose setting up of cancer centers because they weren't 'consulted', but put up full page advertisements in newspapers looking for bidders for the construction of their palatial residences, funded by your own money.
 And you can bet the lowest bidder isn't necessarily assured the contract because nothing is too good for them, and the advertisement was more of a formality than anything else. Because they want to assure us of "transparency".

Does it strike you as weird that being in public service is one of the  fastest ways of growing rich in our country?

And you want to know the saddest thing about all of this? The most absolutely fucked up fact that should essentially give people sleepless nights and nightmares?

The most absolutely fucked up thing is that come 2017, even without rigging, the same faces that have always had their fists up our butt-holes will be elected back to power!

Love is...

My life is like unto a bargain store, and I may have just what you're lookin' for; if you don't mind the fact that all the merchandise is used; but with a little mending it could be as good as new. 

Why you take for instance this old broken heart, if you will just replace the missing parts you would be surprised to find how good it really is. Take it and you never will be sorry that you did. 
You can easily afford the price. Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise. And I will guarantee you'll be completely satisfied


Had a different title and introduction intended in order to break this long fast I had taken from writing. Death to Santa isn't real writing since it's more of a recap than anything else.

After the formatting(that's what my friends prefer to refer to the ECT), I knew that I'd probably have a return of old habits and emotions. Surprise surprise, that didn't come to pass. I knew I'd be able handle my emotions more differently from how I did during the depression, and they wouldn't be as they were before that period.

See, I have more experience now. I'm no longer a child new to relationships, no longer vulnerable to puppy love. Still just as stupid when it comes to love, though. The stupid aspect I'll reveal in later entries....hopefully.

I have been in quite a few relationships, few not in the quantitative euphemism for a ridiculously large number, but few in the literal sense. I could lose my hand then give a few digits from the remaining one and still be able to count on my still attached hand how many serious relationships I've been in.

But how do you define a serious relationship? Was it serious because the thought of marriage crossed your mind, serious that you introduced her to your parents, or serious in the sense that you reached a point in the relationship that you never even once imagined yourself ever being with someone else, and it was ok?

 Or is it serious because even after it has ended you don't have regrets about ever being with them, and you still care for your former partner and hope all the best for them in all their future endeavours (and are actually not being sarcastic and whispering curses under your breath like the asshole in you used to do after a fling when you were younger). Is that a sign of maturity, or is it a sign that the relationship is really gone and the embers turned to ash, with chance of rekindling dead with them?

It has been said a lot of times, life is short; you're barely walking when you get thrown into school where you learn to read; and as your mind is opening up to the new world contained in literature your hormones kick in and the instinct of seeking companionship is woken up. Then the game changer -  you're out of your parents' and have to fend for yourself and maybe seek companionship. Before you know it you have offspring, and soon they're also leaving you and you have to deal with the fact of your mortality same way you did coming in to life, confused and unsure what the hell life is about.

Life really is short. And I'm caught up in the grey area where I can take care of myself but still unsure if I want to invest my emotions in taking care of others. I don't want to make any more mistakes, or enemies, but I know those are inevitable unless I bend over backwards for everyone, though even then I would still make enemies from those who don't like the way I keep getting pushed around. - and to clarify the previous sentence, I don't get pushed around!- Just the normal getting pushed around where I can't afford to make a snarky comment to people in higher authority in some situations because I kinda really really need pay my bills on a regular basis and being homeless would dampen my ability to continue trying to escape the rat-race.

I was on matters relationships. I dunno*, if there is once thing I'm determined never to do it's to make enemies out of people I loved and allowed to see me at my most vulnerable. I take love seriously because it's the one thing that ever makes sense in this life, or at least my life. If I said or expressed that I love you no force in this universe could ever take it back, or make it mean any less than when I first knew it. even proper grammar can't effectively explain it!

I'll probably make more mistakes, hopefully I'll be able to make up for them, hopefully I'll never find myself having to walk away and breaking promises of not walking away.

What was the point of this whole entry?

Love is sometimes eternal. We may be unable to express it sometimes, but that doesn't negate its existence or water down what it meant before when it could be expressed more easily and openly.

A poet never takes notes. You never take notes in a love affair - Robert Frost.



* now? I think I put that asterisk over that word because it's not proper English...honestly forgot since there are more slang words elsewhere within the entry. Also, I rarely ever go back over some entries, like this one, this is to keep myself from editing out important points

Death to Santa VI [2014]

Dear diary,

Another year I haven't died. Suck on that Satan, this soul may actually end up not falling into your ironically cold claws. Who would have guessed!

I am thankful for my family, Lord knows this year started off on a really messed up note, which I hardly remember but they have to live with the stress I put them through.

I am thankful for all my friends who stood by me through the 5 years I had clinical depression further complicated by the bipolar, which didn't make me the easiest person to be around.

I am thankful for my girlfriend for dealing with me for three years! A record for any of my relationships... Probably a record for anyone dealing with my type of mind! Sad it ended, but I shall forever treasure the times.

I am thankful for getting my mind back after being dissociated from my memories and experiences for most of the 5 years.

I am thankful for everyone that came back after I pushed everyone away all those years.


While I got a tonne of morbid jokes, I'll save them for 2015.

Maybe Santa isn't such a douchebag, maybe I should finally make peace with this adaptation of St. Nicholas. But is Santa a wave or a particle? Is he able to deliver all those gifts in one night because he's figured out how to exploit quantum states but doesn't want to share the knowledge? That pisses me off because that carries the answer to me travelling the universe... earth is too small in the cosmos scope. Well...fuck him, you know...

Sorry, I digressed.

You now what they say about habits dying hard...they really do. I guess all those vices and habits were hidden somewhere in my brain just waiting...waiting. And come back they did. My attention span is now that of a goldfish... I get bored just as easily as I get excited. An lulls in the conversation don't make me feel awkward, I just move on to something I feel is more interesting. Maybe I should change that.

But my mind has opened up again and I want to learn everything! While I'm not willing to go as far as Faust, I want to know as much as I can!

Most people I've come across are talking about narrowing down the circle of friends. Why the heck would wanna do that? Small circles are mediocre ,and boring, and lack variety... I want a larger circle, I want to know people everywhere, while my circle of trustees will stay small, I want to be friends with everybody if possible! I wanna dig into every nook and cranny of their memories and see all their ideas, dreams and views about reality. I want to know what gives you the strength to wake up in the morning and get out of bed and out of the house. I want to at least have an idea why we as a species are so unique in that we're capable of all these amazing things yet at the same time the most vile and evil beings around.
I want to know why we have love, and can tell each other we love yet go back on our words and backstab the shit out of the people who trust us the most. I want to know what drives us to turn around with that knife still bleeding and hug and give them the chance to do it again. Is that what defines love? Is true love the act of having the love go both ways, or is it the ability to overlook betrayal in the name of love?

I'm not as closed off emotionally as I was before the depre...that thing. Nor am I as closed off as I was during. Probably the other way round. I'm more open minded, more open to new ideas than I have ever been in my life... Maybe It's because when you're introduced to the world of quantum mechanics you realize nothing is what is seems and reality maybe just an illusion where everything is hidden away from us forever...or as Humphry Davy put it,

Nothing is so fatal to the progress of the human mind as to suppose our views of science are ultimate; that there are no new mysteries in nature; that our triumphs are complete; and that there are no new worlds to conquer

Anyway, gotta go diary. Hope everyone who reads has a productive 2015 that'll bring you closer to your dreams. A new year gives you the opportunity to shed off every undesirable thing about yourself. A habit takes roughly 6 weeks to change. Which gives you until valentine day...coincidence? Probably... Maybe I conveniently doubled the average time required to change a habit.

Either way, make those over-ambitious resolutions but try as much a possible to change them...for example if you decide to lose weight, at least make sure it hasn't doubled by the time you carry over the resolution to 2016. Fatty fat fat fatties are disgusting, plus your heart is struggling. Whatever your resolution, here's to an awesome 2015, diary!

Black sheep come home

Earlier this week, when I got to work, one of my pals told me, "I have a favour to ask you."

As usual, I said, "Shoot!" Didn't know what I'd gotten myself into, but, as long as it wasn't anything too 'illegal', I was ok with not knowing what till he came to collect the favour.

Later in the morning they called me to the boardroom where Francis(the cameraman) had setup his equipment. A request I found odd was asking if I had carried my phone. Of course I didn't have it. Why do I need my phone anyway? Nooo! You want me to reveal saucy texts? But but I don't have anyone to send those to...

"No. We want you to call your dad on camera and tell him you love him"

"Huh? You want what!?"

Yeah, it was confusing, a mixture of emotions. See, while I'm not the dictionary definition of a black sheep, I come pretty close. For most of my life I have been cut off from most people emotionally, especially my dad.

Without revealing too much, all I can say is my memories of being a teenager aren't exactly pleasant, and I'd rather go through life never admitting I have ever been a teenager. With good reason too!

To cut a long story short, after growing up feeling abandoned and making a lot of mistakes, I came to realize that bitterness will never get you anywhere. Especially looking at how I'm slowly managing to shape me into the image of what I believe is the ideal person, I think I have more to be thankful for than to be bitter about. Which includes not allowing hate to be a part of me.

I guess if being clinically depressed is what was needed for me to quit being a little unemotional bitch, then it was worth it because while it may have taken away four years of my youth, it also made me eventually realize that I'm not alone in this world. This year has been especially trying on my family, with me almost dying twice. Ok, maybe I've exaggerated the second instance, since it involved surgery. Point is, they have been through a lot. I'm lucky because I lost part of my memory so I don't have to deal with most of the emotions that were involved at the time.

So here I was standing in front of a camera, I'd been asked to call my dad and say those three words. The topic of men not being able to express their feelings verbally has been the subject of countless articles and hence already familiar to many, therefore I don't have to discuss them in this entry. As the call was connecting I had enough time to think.

My dad has not been there for most of my life, physically he was, but emotionally no. In retrospect, I think he just didn't know what to do with me. I was the first born, so it would be unfair to judge him by it, especially seeing the good job he did with my brother and sister. It would be unfair to judge him remembering the numerous times he tried to set things right with me when I was in campus, and I was the one who consciously and knowingly resisted.

When I was depressed I guess it made it even harder for them because I cut off most people and moved out because I wanted to be alone. I could see they could sense something was wrong with me but I didn't want them to, this was my burden. Of course I knew I was depressed, but I also knew it is an expensive disease and I wanted to handle it on my own.

The call connected. My dad's voice. During the small talk as I tried to find a way of introducing those three little words into the conversation I remembered the events of this year. 

This has been the most dramatic year of my life. It counts as the first year since 2009 that my mind became my own again. The idea of killing myself isn't that new so I can casually talk about it. I guess. But the gravity isn't lost to me. My family didn't take it lightly, and only my immediate family(and now the world) know how close I came to allowing the world to beat me into a corner and giving up. And I owe them for always being there for me. For once in my life I decided to open up myself to my family and allow them to see me as the person I have become. Deep inside I know I've always loved them. The heavy veil of mental illness couldn't snuff that out. I just had to look and admit the fire was there.

As we were talking I knew that while I never tell them verbally that I love them, everything I've done this year has been also been geared at showing them I know what I put them through, I know they never left my side even though I couldn't see them. I owed them the verbal confirmation.

I forgot the camera was there and just said what I have been meaning to say most of this year. I'm sad it took being asked by a third party to do it, but like the depression, the end justifies the means.

No more black sheep

Cogito Ergo Sum

Am I scared? Actually, no. A bit apprehensive, but nothing more than that.

I guess, I made peace with myself and I am aware of my mortality. Anyway, I'll get back to that later after I get something else off my chest.

Some doctors really annoy me, they do their best to fleece insurance companies through their patients. I guess for the most part they can get away with it, but for some people, myself included, this ends up hurting us too, not just the insurance company. I have known for a few weeks that the only solution to what I have is surgery, and the doctor I went to last week knew that also, so why did he waste my comfort, time, and money with stupid follow up consultations instead of just going ahead with the surgery and not waste the money on medicine that didn't do shit to ease the pain I am in constantly.
Last month it was the dentist. Barring the fact that nothing has been right with my body since the last time I was in hospital, the opportunism exhibited by these physicians is worrying and annoying! Let me give an example of the dentist hospital. When you're paying in cash a root canal procedure costs 9 thousand Ksh. When they discovered I had insurance the cost bloated to double that, and despite my insistence they never explained where the extra cost came from. See, even though it's the insurance that's paying, there's a limit, and I need my insurance intact because my need for bipolar medication and access to a psychiatrist is constant so when these fuckers in their pursuit for unfair profit do their thing, they end up messing me because at the end I have to pay from my pocket.

Anyway, I'm supposed to go in for minor surgery in the next day or so. Though it's called minor surgery, if there's anything I picked up from the Wahome Mutahi incident, it's that there is nothing like "minor surgery". As long as they have to put you under anaesthesia and cut into your body, there's nothing like minor surgery.

In preparation I've scheduled this entry to post 2 days after I'm expected to leave the hospital. If I don't stop it from posting before then, well, we'll be sure something unexpected happened. Also in preparation I've reset all my passwords to something generic that can be guessed by all who know me...just to keep things easy.

Back to Rene Descartes. Pain always serves to remind us that we're mortal beings and that our physical presence is temporary at most, until the time we learn to manipulate our conscience being into another form or find a way of making it persist indefinitely.

Ever wondered what happens to you after you die? What if our conscience doesn't mean anything, what if there is no 'after'? What if there is no God to receive your soul? What if the idea of having a soul is just a result of the behaviour/reward conditioning that led to humanity gaining morality? What if cogito ergo sum only applies to this mortal state? Would you be scared to die then? Would you take your life more seriously if you knew that when it ends that's it for you? Or would you be more callous, knowing there is no punishment or reward awaiting you when you die?

Is this all?

I guess for me all I ever needed was love. Love for me justifies all. As long as I loved in this existence and gave as much as I received I won't leave with any bitterness tormenting me. I'm not worried for me, I worry for those around me and especially those that love me. I know that whether there is an existence past this or not, I lived this one as true to myself as I could...no grudges, nothing but the emotions that drove me to care which is all that life is about, right?


~ for Abby, my fam, my pals and everyone I love or have ever loved

Conversations with the other woman

Ever wondered where the expression "..and one thing led to another and before I knew it.." came from? Here's one scenario. I have to add a disclaimer. While the conversation pattern sounds a lot like me, it's not, dialogue is easier when narrated in the first person.

..................

Was just busy minding my own business when a call comes in. It's my long time friend, W.
"Hey, you"
"Hello to you too! Just checking up on you, been a minute"
"I know, right?! "
"Umenitupa sana(You've ignored[?]) me for long)! What's up?"
"You know, the usual, new job keeping me busy"
"Ah, liar, it's that new girl of yours keeping you busy"
"Nah, it's not like that. Plus we've been dating for almost a year, not that new"
"Really? Anyway, how are you?"
"I'm easy, enjoying life and all"
"We should meet over coffee and catch up"
"Yeah, sounds like a good idea. I'm free Thursday"
"Cool. See you then. It's really good to talk to you after so long"
"Same here. [short pause] Anyway, I'll call you Thursday... To confirm where"
"Ok. Bye"
"Cheers"
In case you're lost, every other line starting with the first is me.

Thursday comes and we agree to meet at around 5:30 pm, after work, at a certain coffee place. I get a text. It's her.
"Hey, I'm gonna run a little late, probably till around 7ish. Do you mind waiting?"
I reply:"Ok"
7pm. Another text,"On my way. Can we meet at club X...I need something stronger than coffee right now"
My reply:"Ok"

At around 7:15 I go to the club and as expected, she hasn't arrived yet. Women and being fashionably late! I find my way to the balcony that overlooks a busy street and order a beer. The nice waitress sees it fit to bring two beers. They look enticing, especially because of the condensation on the bottles. From the correct angle they look just like they do in the advert. I send a short text to my friend telling her where I'm seated.

She comes in at around 7:30 in a flurry of designer perfume, panting, looking as beautiful as always.
"Hey! Sorry for being late. Traffic" [Hugs and perfume]

She looks at the beer. One is already halfway gone.
"I see you've already started without me"
"Yeah, couldn't just sit without taking anything"
After taking a seat she beckons to the nice waitress, " I'll have a cocktail"
She reaches into her bag but I interrupt her,"I'll pay, don't worry"
"No! I came in late, I insist. Today is on me," she turns to the nice waitress, "and two more beers". She turns to me, "Cold?"
 I nod.
"...and two more beers, cold," she finishes.
I look at the cars passing below then turn back to her, "I thought you needed something stronger than coffee"
"Nah, changed my mind, plus I have an early meeting kesho. I'll just have a smoke or two to get the buzz going"
"Ok."
I finish the first beer, and indicate to a passing waitress to open the other one. As she does it, the nice waitress comes with the rest of the drinks.
"You're not talking much today, are you?" she asks.
"Haha. Sorry, my mind was on something else. Anyway, how are you?"
"Good. Care to share?"
"Not really, it's a work thing, you wouldn't understand"
"Knocked up a workmate, you dog you" [She laughs]
"Haha, where did that come from?"
I take two swigs.
She looks at the bottles, "If you continue like that you'll be drunk in thirty minutes. Not that I'm complaining though....in fact,  I want that"
"Huh? Anyway this is how I take my alcohol, you know that. Nursing is for pussies!"
She giggles, then reaches into her bag and takes out menthol cigarettes. She lights one.
"You mind?"
I wave my hand. "Nope"
I finish the second beer.
"Slow down cowboy"
She inches her seat closer till it's touching mine. She stares at the street below, "looks beautiful, doesn't it? Feels like old times, you know"
"Yeah, I'd also missed this, just hanging out"
"You look good...you've lost weight"
"Haha, thanks. Isn't it the man who is supposed to say that to the woman?"
"We're empowered nowadays, haha. We get to do everything you guys do"
"Except peeing standing up"
She laughs and slaps my thigh gently, "You're silly! I'd missed that too. Your stupidity"
"Aww. But you are the one that got a guy then forgot about her friends" [Feigns sadness]
"Me? No! I never avoided anyone. It's you and that girl of yours. How is she by the way?"
"She's good. Your guy?"
"I don't know. We broke up a few weeks ago"
"Sorry"
"Sorry for what? I'm free to do what I want, no more relationship complications"
"Happy for you"
She turns with a serious expression on her face and looks at me intensely, "what do you see in her?"
"Eh? That's a random question"
"I'm serious. I just want to know. Indulge me"
"Ok. She just makes me happy. I've never been with anyone like her. She is..."
She interrupts me, "You've stopped drinking"
"Oh, didn't notice"
"Well? Drink up"
"Hahaha. Are you trying to get me drunk, W?"
"Hahaha, maybe..."
"Where were we?"
"I'm just tired of men. They're so annoying!"[she sighs loudly]
"Haha, careful now, remember you're talking to one"
She turns back to me with that intense look again.
"Why can't all men be like you?"
"Like me...?"
"Yeah, you're one of the nicest guys I know. Plus you're faithful. She's lucky"
"Yeah? 'nice' gets you friend-zoned. I think I'm the one who's lucky"
She laughs.
"Maybe I'm having second thoughts about doing it to you"
"Doing what?"
"Friend-zoning"
"Haha. Isn't it a bit late for that?"
"Is it really?" she says thoughtfully, "can I tell you something?"
"Um. Ok"
I take several swigs, though the first beers had already gotten me more than tipsy. Lightweight.
"It's something really personal"
Little alarm bells go off in my head. But I'm drunk, can't hear them that clearly.
"I already know most things about you. Shoot," I say.
"That's part of it, we already know everything about each other, right?"
"Yeah"
"And I trust you"
"Aww..."
"I'm serious, K(my name)"
"Ok"
"I..."
The hand on my thigh moves in a rubbing motion. Funny. I'd forgotten that was there. Feels good. Alarm bells go off in my head. Can't really hear them over the sound of blood rushing to my head. I finish the third beer and get started on the fourth. A gentle touch on my hand hints that I should put it down for now.
I look at her. I already knew she looks beautiful. But now she looks ravishingly beautiful. She's looking at me. Her lips look soft and enticing. I remember my girlfriend.
"No," the words come out hesitatingly, "I can't."
I turn away and look at the street below.
"Why?" It's a soft whisper next to my ear. I can feel her warm breathe... menthol. I don't want to turn. I think of my girl. I can't.
She leans back. I can turn now. I look at her beautiful brown eyes. I can't. I shouldn't.
She leans forward. Our eyes are a few inches from each other, foreheads are touching.
"I love you"
"No..." I say feebly.
"I love you"
"I love you too, but not like that..." I taper off, "...like a sister"
"But we're not related"
"This is wrong..."
Her lips pout, she leans in with her eyes closed, I turn my head to avoid what's coming. Her lips brush against the side of my mouth and end up on my cheek. So soft.
"You should be with me," the words come like a breeze in my ear.
"I have a girl"
"She not here"
"It doesn't matter...it's still wrong..."
"Feels right to me"
"I have a girl"
"I don't care..."
As I turn, her lips are waiting. So soft. Tastes minty. No alarm bells.
.................................................................................

A few days later I'm on the sofa watching a movie, my girlfriend's head on my lap. The phone rings. I look at it then press ignore.
"Who is it, babe?"
"Nobody. Just this annoying client. They don't know boundaries. It's a weekend for Christ's sake!" I say.
"Oh. OK", she turns her head back towards the TV.
I look at my phone. I feel horrible about myself. I type a quick text:"My girlfriend's here" then put my phone back down.
"I love you." The words escape my lips.
"Love you too, babe"
We go back to watching the movie.

Adventures in depression( Affirmation )

It has been over 6 months since I posted any original content here. I think I lost my flare for writing. I pray it ain't so. Though it may also be that I had been depressed for a while since sometime near the end of last year, teetering over the edge waiting for that one last tiny thing that would push me completely over.

See the thing about bipolar disorder and depression is that you can't really treat a depressed bipolar person with the normal antidepressants. Treatment usually involves a lot of anti-anxiety medication and other serotonin uptake inhibitors, and in my case, a little electro convulsive therapy to move it faster.

I have been depressed before but never had it been serious enough to require hospitalization. It was voluntary(hospitalization), according to what I'm told by my shrink, and friends. I was away for weeks and I had only informed one or two people where I was. Anyway, lets discuss depression.

A little over two years ago I'd discussed mental illness on this blog where I covered several forms of mental illnesses, mostly what I have - bipolar disorder. Although nowadays I am conditioning myself to stop looking at it like a disease. It's more of an example of how God gives with one hand and takes with the other. Contrary to what that statement implies, I'm not really mad at God for that because over time I've come to accept what I have and actually realized it gives me that je ne sais quoi quality.

For the most part, that I'm bipolar doesn't really interfere with who I am and has never defined me, how I behave and what I stand for. It just gives me extra energy sometimes, and acts as a buzz-kill other times. While it has obviously influenced how I behave in a small way, I like to believe that I'm a result of my choices, and the path I take in life is one I choose for myself as I go along.

I believe the question of how much mental conditions influence our decisions is tied in intimately with the question of free will in all humans. Is it freewill if I suddenly behave differently and do something stupid because the chemicals in my brain have become imbalanced? Am I responsible for everything I do while depressed or on a high? If I killed myself because I'm depressed, is it my fault? Did I have the option to decide that death is not the answer?

Actually the answer is really simple, when you are depressed, freewill is one of the luxuries you're denied. That's why I chose to forsake my freedom for the sake of everything I believe in, and got hospitalized for specialized treatment. Truth be told, while I have accepted that my death is inevitable in the long run, I don't want it to be by my own hand or as a result of something I could have foreseen and changed.

Depression is one of the most fucked up diseases around, it isn't really treatable unless the person going through it is willing to have it treated, and by virtue of you being depressed you lack the ability to realize that you are the one who matters most if you're to get better. Does that make sense?

I'll use myself as an example, again. When I got depressed it took me more than 6 months to realize I was in deep shit. And even after falling over the edge into chronic depression it took another 3 days to realize I was the only one who could get help for me by accepting that I was in shit and it was all going down in my mind. and to say the truth I am one of the lucky ones. The ones who are at the edge, where you have decided suicide is the answer and all that's left is how to do it as painlessly as possible, but decide to give life one last go. 

The amount of pain is not usually one of the considerations (because you're already dead inside and that is the greatest pain a person, who has ever known happiness, can feel and continues to feel). The biggest consideration is ease. That's why some people see a rafter, a stool and a scarf. Others see sleep medication and painkillers, others see guns. You have to understand that the only consideration once you've decided to kill yourself, is what is the most easily accessible tool to do it and what requires the least effort on your part.

For a depressed person there is no heaven or hell to look forward to, there is no God to wrap you in His warmth, there is nothing to look forward to except ending the emptiness, pain and hopelessness that has become your life. If nothing can make you happy why bother with going through the motions? Why bother making the effort to hang out with people who make no difference in your life? What is the purpose of family and lovers if they can't make you feel loved any more? What is the need for friends if they can't make you feel alive? What is the need of a job if all it does is make you get out of bed in the morning to go do something you don't give a shit about? All it did is wake you up from the sweet oblivion of sleep.

This is why I get bothered and angry whenever I hear insensitive statements about people who've committed suicide. People need to realize that depression is a real illness, it is a cancer of the mind. It is hard to detect,  but it's important to realize that no sane well balanced person wants to die, least of all by killing themselves. When a person suddenly becomes introverted and wants nothing to do with normal day to day activities for extended periods, they are probably depressed or heading there. When a person chooses to end his/her life, you have to believe it's not their fault in most circumstances. And here we're not talking of terrorists or criminals. 

Depressed people are rarely a danger to others, just to themselves.

I have covered depression form a personal perspective rather than a medical one to hope that maybe it would resonate with other (normal) people. It is important to know your friends and family well enough to notice it when something is just not right with them. It's hard sometimes because depression progresses very slowly over months or years. But once you suspect it, in yourself or someone else, try to find a way to introduce the topic.

Most depressed people will disagree they're depressed which is the largest hurdle to beginning treatment. Just don't shove the fact that they're depressed down their throats, you have to introduce it in such a way that they form the conclusion themselves. In the process you may have just saved the life of someone close to your heart.

Also check out this post by Allie Brosh who also had a run in with depression. I mirrored the title here from that post.

In case you need to contact a psychologist call (+254) 720 291 232

Take care of your whole self: mind, body and soul.

Cheers

~ Ben

Love story

'You know I love you and would do anything for you'
'Oui, ma chérie'
'Good, I just wanted you to know that'
'I'll love you forever, my love'
'By the way what are we having for supper?'
'I don't feel like cooking today. I'm craving pizza. Please go pick one up'
'I thought you said you're watching your weight?'
'Did you just call me fat?'
'No! I er...which type of pizza did you say?'
'Pepperoni'
'Ok. But it's raining outside'
'You said "anything" for me!'
'Yeah, but I didn't mean going into a freakin hurricane!'
'I don't think this will work out'
'You said pepperoni, any extra toppings or thicker crust?'
'Nah, it's better without. And don't forget we're also out of soda'

Grass Will Grow

If you should take my child Lord
Give my hands strength to dig his grave
cover him with earth
Lord send a little rain
For grass will grow

If my house should burn down
So that the ashes sting the nostrils
Making the eyes weep
Then Lord send a little rain
For grass will grow

But Lord do not send me
Madness
I ask for tears
Do not send me moon hard madness
To lodge snug in my skull
I would you sent me hordes of horses
Galloping
Crushing
But do not break
The yolk of the moon on me.

- by Jonathan Kariara (1935 – 1993)

This has been my prayer since I was a child. Thought I should share it

Please Like my impeccable grammar

I decided to go through the posts in this blog in chronological order just to review my frame of mind at the time I wrote each post and the first thing to hit me was, damn I've come from far! Had many nostalgic moments and missed the days when vowels were not part of the words in my vocabulary.
"Holy horseshit, Ben! They should give you an award or something for showing some sort of evolution"
I know, right? I should put some sort of Donate to my Paypal thingy here as you guys fund-raise for the proper gift. Sporadic writers need coffee too you know, for those late nights spent napping as they imagine what they'd do if they had control over all the worlds resources. I'd live in the sea, like ocean-girl...probably adopt a dolphin, and after sorting out the communication differences, find a way of determining who is the most intelligent mammal. I'd call him Flipper, or Master.

Legend states that it's a good thing to sprinkle random somewhat relevant images in the post to make it more attractive to readers. Look at what I found in stockphotos. Yum 

Anyway...
My grammar was ok but my spelling sucked. It's because those early posts were initially Facebook notes. Those were the good times, people commented, said nice things like "wow, you're such a good writer, Ben, you should totally write a book", while some of the girls were like "oh golly, Ben, imagine if we had babies, they'd be so poetic and deep."
To which I'd say, "Thanks, I appreciate. Wanna go out sometime...like a date date..."
To which they'd say, "Oh, Ben, that sounds nice , especially because I've dated assholes and I'm always updating my status asking where all the good men are. But I like you as a friend and I know you will make some girl really happy some day because, personally, despite me always saying how reliable you are and how good you are to me and how much I say love you, and that I know you've never cheated on anyone and can't even imagine it, I still think of you as a tool: my emotional dumpster. We still good, right?"
Me, "Yeah, we're good", followed later by a bout of crying, masturbation, and asking God why he made me different... It wasn't pretty AT ALL!

Guess it came(ha!) to a point when I realized I should standardize my writing in case I needed a writing gig and the prospective client/employer needed a sample of something I'd written. I was nasty and really vindictive sometimes, those times because negative energy fuelled me, but all those posts are gone now...gone to the great recycle bin in the sky. Funny thing, my grammar was probably better in  my primary school and high school days. Campus was just one blur of partying and travelling...plus I never spoke English even once unless I was presenting something.

But even if it came to the point where I present my blog to be judged by a prospective client/employer, how would I explain the cursing? Well, even gentlemen have breaking points when they take off one glove and bitchslap a fucker. Cursing is the writer's glove, besides sticks and stones may break my bones temporarily, but words will haunt me forever and affect all my future relationships...

While my grammar has come of age, my creativity, on the other hand, has gone to the dogs! Can't write even a measly fiction story! Depression seems to have claimed that before it got slew. I wish I could write creatively again. If anything that is the one thing I miss the most and pretty much want back. Is there a pill you can take that will give you back everything you lost those last 4 years? Wait, I said no more pills for me...except Oleanz once every few months.

So I started this thing where rather than type my thoughts into the laptop, I actually have a notebook where I write on. It's really working out well for me especially my handwriting which had suffered over the years when I just typed.

Just like the pleasure I get from loud music, I can't describe the feeling I get when holding that pen and just seeing the story roll out, all my fears, joys and frustrations in a tangible form. That paper has a lot of my life energy in it in a way no word document could ever capture...it's kinda humbling especially because I know that unlike my drafts which are password protected, if I died today, all my emotions will be exposed the moment someone takes it and reads through it...

The raw nature of it feels really different, especially at that point when you cancel out a thought already written, if you wrote over it the updated text wouldn't be that legible, so you cross out the text then continue on unused space. Even crossed out thoughts still exist and lend their voice to the story, so a not-so-casual observer can follow your thought process to the extent that even text you were trying to delete would make sense. Everything in that notebook is a story...the A4 Chronicles!

The downside is I have to manually type in a post if I want to put it up on this blog...

So, do you like my grammar? I know it's not perfect but at least I try to make it easier to understand my thoughts...

Keep well

The Online Grind

I love the social media, I  embraced it with all my heart and I'm very active in almost all the mainstream networks. Through them I find avenues of expression that would otherwise be impossible or seem too abrasive if expressed in real life.

Before i go into it too deeply I have to qualify what I'm about to say by stating that I have made a lot of friends online...a considerable number of my close friends... Though after we meet, our interaction via whatever network we met off of reduces considerably. Also, some parts will seem misogynistic, but my friends can swear on their lives that I love and respect women. This post is kinda a follow-up to The year that was: twitter. When I speak of 'anonymity' I don't exactly mean a faceless entity...

I remember when I published this entry How To be a Kenyan onTwitter my timeline was a chilled out place with a lot of jest and friendliness. Malice was a foreign concept. Nowadays my timeline is filled with malice, and people who have this misplaced sense of entitlement by virtue of the number of followers they have. So statements like "...talking about me yet they have 100 followers only" are common. Yeah you are allowed to say what's on your mind but it seems I missed a memo about the number of followers being a source of wealth or authority. Marketers don't pay that much or constantly for tweets...

What I find most curious is we're creating a sub-generation of demigods whose only achievement is online presence. I get it, you have a lot of followers, go you! But what I don't like or understand is the whole celebrity angle. Most celebrities get on twitter after they're famous, or become famous after an exceptional talent they have is discovered via any of the networks. Still with me? So I don't understand how some people walk around with this smug attitude simply because they're "big" on twitter yet can't hold up a normal conversation in front of people or actually show why they are famous. Your only contribution to humanity is in a hard disk somewhere...un-quantifiable... Anyone with time in their hands can pull it off easily. If I follow you and you died, and I didn't know you, and got told you died, I would go to your profile to check the last tweet you made and based on it judge if you're currently playing a harp or screaming for water; then I'd unfollow since I don't expect any further activity from that account...at least not in this realm.

I know twitter is a place where you escape the real world, to hide in and say anything or everything you can't actually say in real life; but I find it sad when the twitter world is your everything and gets to define you. You are seated with your 'friends' but you barely notice they're there because you're in your own world, online, maintaining your virtual reputation. There is something sad and pathetic about people whose social skills are so regressed they don't know how to interact with others in a normal atmosphere in person, unless everybody else is drunk...

[WAIT WAIT WAIT! Before you go on i have something to ask - Ed]  Ok. Shoot.

[If they annoy you so much, Ben, why don't you unfollow them?] Good question, Ed. I do unfollow people who annoy me but they have this even more annoying habit of making their way back into my timeline through RTs and mentions. It's as if their sole purpose in life is to annoy me!

[You also used to be an asshole sometime back...Pot!] Yes, I was an ass and I embrace the fact that I hurt a lot of people both intentionally and unintentionally, but I also took the steps and either apologized to anyone i offended, or told them to go fuck themselves because they deserved it in the first place. But I don't meet (new) people and expect them to revel in my awesomeness merely by the number of followers I have. I have to earn respect in person by assuming/acting like none of the social networks exist.

[What's your view about socialites?]  Suum cuique

[Bigwigs then?] Meh. Define the term...

o·ver·com·pen·sate
ˌ/ōvərˈkämpənˌsāt/
verb
gerund or present participle: overcompensating
1.

take excessive measures in attempting to correct or make amends for an error, weakness, or problem.

The definition above isn't a blanket generalization. Applies to many people though.

Anyway, somebody once told me there are stages you have to go through as a man. There is that point your mom stopped being the center of your universe, when you learned to suck up the pain if you scraped your knee or worse. There's the athletic stage when you pick up a sport like football and learn team-play. The awkward teen encounters as you learn to associate with women and accept you'll never understand them. There's the stage you associate sports and/or intelligence with women choosing to sleep with you and not just friend you...further enforcing the fact you'll never understand them.

Anyway in Why Men Cheat, so long ago, I mentioned that by the mid-20's most men have identified their ideal woman. What I never mentioned is that men also need to fuck around to realize that most pussy is the same, pardon my french. So that to such men when faced with the choice between a really attractive woman and a less attractive one, more often than not they go for the less attractive one.  The Why is a topic for another time. Vanity is an ugly shade to beauty though.

My point is that after being with several women the objectifying angle disappears, and the number of women you've slept with ceases to be a topic of pride when you're with your male friends. The methodology in picking who you date becomes subject to the same factors you use to pick your friends... Befriending then dating becomes commonplace. Comparisons regarding women are drawn in discussion, yes, but attractiveness is secondary, still key, but secondary.

When social media came of age, adults who were previously awkward and forgotten kids found themselves in the limelight. You know those kids that got left out when you were picking teams for football; the ones who got to cheer from the sidelines with the girls. In the anonymity of the internet they rediscovered themselves. They realized they could project what they always wanted to be, and that is to be noticed and hopefully celebrated. Even the age range of the girls they target is telling of the compensation happening...naive, impressionable and fresh out of high school. Pretty sure they'd go younger if the law on statutory rape wasn't there.  I'm not saying that is a bad thing(sleeping with young women, NOT sleeping underage girls), not at all, what's annoying is the whole sense of entitlement angle that always crops up.

If you're catching up, go fuck around, do your thing, just tone down the smug especially considering: 1.) you're doing something people younger than you[i.e your competition] do without the assistance of social media, because...--lean closer-- they aren't late bloomers like you. 2.) You're doing something people your age did and got over, again, because they aren't late bloomers.  Being a late bloomer isn't something to be proud of. And especially don't expect a reward or believe you deserve recognition.

In a way, social media did to dating and sex what money did to human evolution. The fallen fruits, for the first time, got the chance to be eaten first, leave alone getting eaten at all.